Galactic Fuse: Allied Forces
by Mizz Brainiac
Summary: Month 1. Ben has his exam, DeeDee's held captive, deadly Fusion mutant escapes, Ray learns a lesson, and Gray... well, you'll just have to find out. If you haven't read my fanfic FusionFall: Galactic Fuse, I highly advise you read it first.
1. Exam

**Okay, I did NOT like how my sequel to Galactic Fuse went. So I'm totally redoing it. Hope you enjoy!**

**My first continuation sequel of FusionFall: Galactic Fuse.**

_**Chapter 1:**_

**Exam**

"I did not see that coming," Lee Daring let out a bark of laughter as he and the wielder of the Omnitrix casually shuffled down one of the long corridors of the solar-system-sized space station (pardon the alliteration) towards Hangar Deck B-47.

Ben Tennyson grinned, "That was _some _speech. I've got a new respect for my flight instructor, that's for sure."

"I feel sorry for anyone who double-crosses him," the green-eyed blonde remarked.

Ben grimaced, "I'd hate to be in their shoes."

There was a slight pause. Lee pulled down his brown detective's hat that was an addition to his private investigator attire complete with trench coat and brown gloves. His messy hair fell in front of his eyes, and he asked, "So, did you get to talk to Dexter like you wanted?"

"I saw him, but I didn't get to talk to him," Ben sighed. "I have a feeling he hasn't gotten to really talk to anyone besides Conwell and Sevin. And he just talks business with them."

Lee allowed a smile to appear on his face. "Don't worry, Ben. If he's locked in a room with Nathan, he's got company. Nate could make friends with a grizzly. Individually, of course. He has trouble in groups."

"I thought he look kind of scared at the meeting," Ben noted.

"Two to four people around him, and he's fine," the blonde fifteen-year-old began, "But any more, and he looks like he's about to have a panic attack. I was amazed he didn't pass out or anything with so many eyes on him."

Curiously, Tennyson asked, "How's a friendly guy afraid of crowds?"

It didn't make much since to him because in order to be friendly one had to be social. But one could be social in a group of no more than four, he supposed.

"Eh, his parents are to blame," Lee shrugged, "After the wreck that crippled him, they kept him locked in his room. Home schooled by a private tutor, served three times a day by a personal chef. His parents were bloody rich. But they were never home, so he only ever socialized with Professor Michaels and Chef Riccardi."

"Why would any parent in their right mind keep their son caged in like that?" Ben demanded, the facts scattered about him in a way that he couldn't seem to piece them together.

"Some say because they were paranoid that something else might happen to him if he stepped a foot outside their mansion," he started, "But everyone knows it's because they wanted one less thing to worry about while they working for a covert branch of the government."

Ben's eyebrows raised. "Well, they're model parents."

"You don't know the half of it," all traces of a smile vanished from his face. He spared a fleeting glance at the boy beside him and realized the emotions he had just spiked inside of Ben. "Look at me; I'm giving you a bunch of negative scrap on your big day, man. You should be getting psyched—your final flight exam's today!"

"You don't think Ray's going to go easy on me, do you?" he asked, hoping he'd receive an answer somewhere along the lines of, ''Course he'd go easy on you!' No dice.

Lee let out a bark of laughter. "No chance in this millennium, Ben! Ray's not known for going easy on anyone when it comes to piloting."

Ben's stomach churned. So much for all his hopes.

They stopped in front of the sliding door to one of the millions of hangar decks on the gargantuan space station positioned at the center of Galaxy Beta. As Ben placed his hand on the scanner beside the door, he braced himself for the challenges that lay behind the entrance, conducted by none other than the reckless one of the Stellar Twins—Horatio Stellar.

Ben was only a year younger than the redheaded ace of a pilot, but Horatio had enough experience to pass as an eighty-nine-year-old war veteran. So Ben made no complaint when Horatio constantly called him, 'kid.'

As the door registered the print of his hand and immediately slid open when his identity was confirmed, Lee gave Ben a friendly slap on the back. "Good luck, Tennyson. You'll need it."

"I'm sure I will," he agreed.

Ben stepped into the Hangar Deck and Lee called just before the door slid shut.

"And Ben—! Don't forget your helmet."

Smiling to himself, Lee turned, shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, and trudged back down the hall. His thoughts quickly dragged him out of reality. This war was the main subject.

Sometimes, like now, he wondered why he even bothered. There wasn't much he could do unless the Fusions invaded a planet. But then he remembered that he was able to supply the station power and Angel preferred using him as a defibrillator more than the machine. He was useful, just not in the field he was used to being useful in. He was a fighter. Not a guy to sit on the sidelines. And he wasn't allowed to fly a starglider because his electrical powers had the annoying tendency to overpower him and do as they wish—sometimes draining the power inside the starglider.

But on the bright side he had met Ben. Talking to Ben tended to lift his spirits. He could be Lee Daring around Ben instead of a tool used by medics and electricians. He liked being a kid. But ever since he had discovered he was a mutant, being a kid was virtually impossible. The great thing about talking with the wielder of the Omnitrix was that he acted as though a glowing, electro-mutant was perfectly normal.

The sudden beeping of his communicator (seemingly a wristwatch) buzzed. He raised his left arm and pushed back the sleeve of his trench coat to reveal the device strapped on top of his gloves. Once he pressed the receive button, Grayson's face appeared on the miniscule screen.

"Lee, a refugee is suffering from ventricular fibrillation and requires immediate medical assistance specifically from a—"

"Human defibrillator?" Lee restrained the urge to sigh.

"Precisely. Report to the main elevator and accompany me to the shelter on the highest level of the station."

"Copy that, Gray," said Lee. After he had cut the transmission link, he broke into a run.

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

"Hey, kid! Ready for your final exam?"

"I guess."

Horatio Stellar shook his head. "No, kid, you don't guess. You either know or you don't."

Ben would've liked to have pointed out to Horatio that seventy-five percent of the flight instructor's decisions were made on guesses, but the trainee had come to realize over the past several days that Horatio's rules applied to everyone but himself, of course.

The younger brunette corrected himself, "I _am_ ready."

"Good. Take your helmet with ya this time, kid. I don't think I'll be covering for you again after our last little escapade."

_Is anyone going to let me live that down?_ Ben wondered as he picked up his helmet and headed towards the starglider with two seats inside the cockpit for a co-pilot to be seated in the back.

Horatio seemed to pick up the thought and gave him a pat on his back, leaving a hand on his shoulder. "Don't sweat it kid—I might let it go . . . someday."

He let Ben go, and the brunette hopped into the pilot seat. The instructor seated himself behind Ben in the co-pilot seat and secured both his helmet and safety harness as did Benjamin.

"Now, here's how this exam's gonna work. I'm gonna shut up and watch what you do. Take notes and all that junk. You're gonna fly into an area known for having stranded Fusions flyin' solo. There's a good chance that a Fusion Starglider or two will show up. There's a good chance one won't."

Ben couldn't help the nauseating feeling creeping into his stomach. Fusions in space were a lot more dangerous than those Ben had known on Earth. Not only were they supplied with a seemingly unlimited amount of laser cannon fire, but they could multiply. As Dexter had said, "They multiply by a process similar to binary fission."

It was pretty rare for a lone Fusion Starglider to multiply, but Ben had witnessed the rare incident on his first trip out into space—the time he had forgotten his helmet that supplied him with oxygen and crucial when there was an oxygen leak in the cockpit.

"If one does show up, you do what you gotta do. Remember, this ain't a simulation. Slip up, and it could mean both our lives."

_No pressure,_ Ben thought.

"And no worries—if you screw up bad enough, I'll take over control of the ship and get us out of here. But you'll get a D."

Ben quizzed, "What if there's more than one Fusion?"

"Turn tail and run, got it, kid?" Horatio said. "We're not risking our lives like that before the war even begins."

A sigh of relief was stifled. Horatio wasn't too cocky. At least not completely. Ben didn't think he had the training to take on multiple Fusion Stargliders solo. It was a good thing that Horatio agreed with him, though not aloud of course.

"Now, the exam has begun, and I'm shutting up," Horatio informed.

Another blessing. Horatio would not be hanging over his should yelling orders every time Ben flinched or hesitated. Ben revved the spacecraft's engines and activated the repulsorlifts, making the starglider hover above the ground. Before them was a red, semi-permeable shield that kept oxygen in, and space out while allowing ships to pass through unharmed.

The exam had begun.

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

"Mr. Sevin? May I ask what 'ultimate weapon' you were referring to?" Dexter asked in the spacious, high-tech control center of the space station.

"You may," the computer system in the form of a holographic seventeen-year-old replied, "But I do not guarantee that you will receive all the information you'd like."

Dexter nodded, his blue eyes prompting the pastel green-haired computer system to go on.

"The ultimate weapon is the only thing that could wipe out an entire Fusion Planet with a single, low-powered blast," he replied. "I'm currently generating it out of my own technology in a heavily guarded, concealed room aboard this station. It will require a massive amount of electric power in order to destroy a good eighty-percent of the Fusion Mass. Therefore, it won't be until we are deep into this war when I have conserved enough energy to power the ultimate weapon that we will be able to fire said weapon. Many good lives will be sacrificed before it is ready. But it is the only way."

Nathan Conwell, a crippled boy the same age as Dexter with a similar intellect, mused, "We have Lee Daring, who is an electro-mutant, and an electricity generating robot by the name of Storm on board, correct? They may be able to help when the time comes."

"That is true. And there is also Trevor Sparks, a different sort of electro-mutant," Gabriel pointed out. "I'm hoping that all three of them will be in able condition to assist when the ultimate weapon is ready to be fired."

"What will be done about the remaining twenty-percent of the Fusion Mass?" Dexter quizzed.

Gabriel clasped his hands behind his back and sighed electronically. "We should have enough remaining of the Allied Forces to face the rest of the Fusion Mass."

Dexter did not like all the words being used. _The only way. Hoping. Should._ Many of those weren't assuring. But to be honest, Dexter was unable to think of an alternative. He would have to rely on the assumptions of Gabriel Sevin and the inhabitants of Galaxy Beta. This would be considerably challenging for him since he mainly only relied on things he invented. Rarely people. Even more so those he did not know well. It was his turn to hope.


	2. The Stove is Hot

_**Chapter 2:**_

**The Stove is Hot**

Ben let out a long sigh of relief. The Fusion was clear out of the way. The battle had been long and hard—minutes seemed as though hours. The Fusion Starglider had put up one heck of a fight. But in the end, Ben had blasted it to oblivion. They were alive. Only minor dents and punctures of the starglider's hull. Plus Ben had managed to use several maneuvers Ray had taught him. But was it enough? Enough for Ray that is.

"Hm. Mm. M," Ray muttered scribbling something on his clipboard.

Ben's nerves sent electric currents shooting up his body. "Uhm—how'd I do?"

Ray shook his head. "Horrible. Absolutely horrible."

Ben blanched, his stomach flopping.

"I'm jus' kiddin with ya, kid," the redheaded pilot grinned. "You passed. You're not the best I've seen, but you're far from the worst."

"Thanks," Ben let a lopsided grin form on his face as the feeling of relief flooded through him. "I think."

"Now take her home," Ray said, leaning back and letting his muscles relax a bit. "Er, to the Hangar Deck, I mean."

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Benjamin Tennyson set the starglider down expertly as he had been taught to. He looked at a gage that displayed the amount of juice the starglider had in it. Actually, it wasn't juice or liquid of any sort—it was some sort of nuclear based power. He grimaced.

"We're low—really low," he informed.

Ray looked over his shoulder and swore as he took of his helmet. "Well, that's gonna cost me some bucks out of my wallet. . . Unless. . ."

Once he jumped out the cockpit as the hatch was still opening, he grabbed a long cable and attached it to a port in the starglider's outer plating.

Ben slid off the slanted hull of the starglider and cocked an eyebrow at him. "What're you doing exactly?"

"Watch and learn, Tennyson," Ray said. "Watch and learn."

He removed a panel from the wall and started toying with the wiring.

"G7 runs on the same juice as they stargliders," explained Horatio. "So all I gotta do is loosen a few wires here and there, divert a few power cables et cetera, et cetera, and I've got myself a full tank."

"Hold on," Ben's tone was a bit worried. "Isn't that stealing?"

"In a way," Ray shrugged, connecting the cables. "But G7's got a ton of power—he can spare a few micro-cells."

Ben's nerves were not relaxed in the least, "But if you divert the power from one cable. . . What if it's something vital to the station?"

"First of all," Ray began, "G7 has so many backup power systems I lost count. Second, it's only a short window if any at all that there isn't power if this system isn't backed up."

There was obviously no arguing with the stubborn Stellar. A sense of dread grew in Ben. Something wasn't right here—besides the obvious of course.

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Grayson Stellar, wiped out from the constant emergencies that occurred one after another, stumbled into the command center of the medical facilities. Angel was standing before the oversized monitor, no doubt updating her log.

"Dr. Meriwether?" he began.

"Yes?" the blonde's serious, no-nonsense voice acknowledged.

He ran a hand through his thick, ginger-blonde hair and sighed, something he found himself doing more and more often since the preparations for the oncoming war had begun. "Do you mind if I take a break this afternoon? I need to talk to someone."

"Who?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow in slight suspicion.

"My brother," he replied, adjusting his circular glasses. "His behavior is getting rather out of hand, in my opinion, and I believe I ought to try and talk to him before things get serious as they have before. But if there is an emergency of sorts or you need me to accompany the professor, I will talk with Horatio some other day."

The chief attending physician shook her head. "No, Grayson, take the afternoon off. You've earned a break." She smiled slightly and elaborated, "As of yet, you've been the first to respond to every medical emergency reported in this station. Give yourself a rest. And don't work yourself too hard confronting your brother."

He grimaced and his grey-blue eyes gazed at his feet. "I doubt that is possible, but I'll try. Good-bye, Doctor."

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

The door slid shut behind him and he laid his back against the wall to his right. He was wiped. Who knew flight instructing could be so tiresome?—everyone in the universe except Horatio Stellar. There was a bunch of other crud involved with instructing that he didn't even bother to make sure he did. He was probably a terrible instructor, but he didn't care. As long as the kid could get the starglider off the ground and fire the cannons, he was satisfied. Yes, he was a very respectable teacher.

He had taught someone how to fly a spacecraft once before. In fact, it was the adopted little sister of his friend and possibly soon-to-be girlfriend. Chara Cooper had been a quick learner. It took her a few crashes but the nine-year-old quickly soared above his expectations. But that had been a miraculous outcome and was not likely to happen again.

A buzz dragged him out of his thoughts abruptly.

"Horatio? May I come in?"

Grayson. Ray sighed. Just what he needed. His know-it-all brother probably wanted to lecture him on something he had done wrong. The only question was, whish wrongdoing was his brother about to pester him about? Surely not all of them.

"What do you want, bro?" he called.

"To talk to you."

Of course.

"What's the password?"

"Horatio. Open the door, please."

"Access denied."

"_Horatio_."

He sighed. Keying in the access code he did reluctantly into the keypad beside him. The door slid open, and there stood Grayson in his usual blue paramedic uniform.

Asked Grayson, "May I come in?"

Ray stepped out of the way. It didn't appear as though Grayson was leaving unless he came inside and talked to him, so what choice did he have in the matter? "Make yourself at home."

The floor that was littered with sweat-stained, dirty laundry caught the attention of Grayson. He cringed at the odor. "Honestly, Horatio? Have you tried _cleaning_ any of your clothing?"

"Did you seriously come in here to lecture me about how I keep my quarters?" Ray asked.

"No," Grayson shook his head. "I think I might do that another day, though."

_Great,_ the redheaded fire-mutant thought with sarcastic enthusiasm. "So what _did_ you come in here to lecture me about?"

"I wouldn't call it lecturing exactly—"

"Is it coming out of your mouth?"

"Yes."

"Then, it's a lecture."

Grayson rolled his eyes and leaned against a wall, possibly the only uncontaminated thing in the room. "I wanted to talk to you about your recent conduct of all things in general."

"Alright, alright, could you get on with it? I've got some sleeping to do," Ray retorted.

The snappy comment received a glare from the ginger-blonde twin. "Horatio, I do wish you would take matters more seriously. Your carelessness is leading to recklessness."

"Your point?" Ray demanded.

"_My point_ is that you're going to get someone hurt. And your rude behavior is going to lose the respect others have for you," Grayson began. "Do you believe that there is anyone who deserves your respect?"

"I'm thinking. . ." mused the redhead, "Still thinking. . . I got nuthin'."

Grayson's grey-blue eyes narrowed at his sibling. "That is where you are wrong, my brother. Every soul on this station deserves your respect. They have volunteered as have you to fight this war. And some aren't blessed with gifts such as yours."

"So you want me to start using my manners? Sure, fine, whatever—can I sleep now?"

"Don't be so quick to brush this past, Horatio," Grayson warned. "And that wasn't the only point I made, if you'll recall. Your recklessness—"

"Is gonna get someone hurt. You said that already. What have I done lately that has gotten anyone hurt or close to it?"—not his best question.

His brother answered, "When you, Donavan, and I were fighting those Fusion Stargliders and you decided to risk your life with that hyper-jump stunt—you could have killed yourself. Not only that, but what do you think would have happened to Donavan and myself if you were no longer there to assist us?"

"You and your big head would've thought of something," Ray replied quickly as though programmed to say such. In their team in their own era, the Robo Kids, Ray was always the brawns that got them into trouble and Gray was always the brains that got them out of it. _Always_.

Grayson shook his head. "Horatio, you're too used to things back home. You were never properly disciplined. I don't believe you realize that things work _much_ differently here. When you gain respect in this particular army, you have to work—yes, I said _work_ as in physical labor—to keep it. And when you behave recklessly, you end up hurting those you care about."

Resorted to lying in bed as though asleep to ignore his primly-behaved twin had Horatio. The words had merely flown in one ear and out the other. Little did he know that those last words would return to haunt him sooner that he thought. Much sooner than _anyone_ thought.

This reaction disgusted Grayson as did everything else in the filthy room. If Horatio wasn't going to heed his warnings, he would simply have to learn the hard way. He stormed towards the door. "_Good day_ to _you_, Horatio."

Horatio would fight, Horatio would die fighting if he had to, Horatio would give all he owned for this war, but Horatio seemed incapable of listening to lectures—particularly heeding warnings.

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Grayson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose to hinder a headache that had begun to form. Any ordinary man or boy would much rather test a lion's nerves that deal with a stubborn brute like Horatio, yet Grayson dealt with him daily.

_Why won't he listen?_ Grayson wondered.

On their home planet, Astervoid, this was routine behavior, nothing out of the ordinary. Grayson had fought all his life to change that, but any changes in Horatio's behavior had not been due to his particular aggressive debates with his brother; instead, some incident in which he had learned the hard way. He was a two-year-old in a sixteen-year-old's body. Always learning that the stove was hot by touching it.

He sighed and ran a hand through his thick hair. _I do hope he learns his lesson soon._

Now there was another matter he had to attend. The top official, head honcho, supreme ultimate commander, (she didn't quite have a specific title) had requested his presence. He hoped that this ordeal would be much less painful and stress inducing than his talk with Horatio. Usually, just about anything was.

Unfortunately, fate had decided that he would not be attending this particular meeting. Fate was working together a lesson that neither twin would forget in the near or far future from which they originated.


	3. Loose

_**Chapter 3:**_

**Loose**

Ray lay half conscious on his bed dreaming of Star-Skimming back home. One of the fastest, most thrilling sports in Galaxy Beta. One he loved. Unfortunately, in his half conscious state, words from the real world were invading his dream.

Radio static. _"Snare isn't in her cell."_

Ray shook his head in the small, narrow cockpit of his Star Skimmer trying to free himself from reality.

"—_anyone? She must've escaped—" _static and silence _"—her anywhere. Snare's loose and dangerous!"_

Ray jerked upright in his bed, breathing a bit heavily. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. He then eyed his communicator on the small table beside his bed. There was a red light that lit up every time a voice came through.

"_She's out!"_

"_Anyone find any sign of her?"_

"_No, sir, not yet."_

"_We've got to get her before she kills anyone."_

"_What if she's left the ship on a starglider?"_

"_Then we have a problem."_

Pulling on a shirt, Horatio jumped out of bed and hurried to his door after scooping up his communicator. He strapped it to his wrist, and when he reached his door, he turned and laid his back against it.

"Gray? Come in, bro—Snare's loose. Y'hear? Snare's _loose._"

He pulled the communicator back and waited for a reply in his brother's voice. None. He cursed.

"Gray, respond—bro, can y'hear me?"

No dice.

_Probably makin out with his boss,_ Ray thought—not that that was anything like Grayson to do such.

Ray punched in the access code into the keypad and hurried into the hall, the opposite direction his brother had been headed in. His destination—the med lab.

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Angel put one hand on her hip and the other on her chin as she mused over the transmissions flying back and forth through the solar-system-sized space station. Professor Utonium stood not far beside her. He took note of how much access to security and certain feed she had. Whether it was legal access or computer hacking—he hadn't yet asked. One particular transmission stood out to Dr. Meriwether.

"_Gray, respond—bro, can y'hear me?"_

Curious, she noted. She tried the communicator that was implanted in his beeper. "Grayson? Do you read me? This is Dr. Meriwether. Grayson?"

Silence. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach but allowed no sign of it to creep into her expression. Grayson always responded because he always had his communicator on him. Even in a restful sleep, he had trained himself to wake up to the sound of radio transmissions.

Professor Patrick Utonium remained silent, allowing her to think in the serene silence she preferred. But not all males have such manners. . .

"Hey, Doc, y'seen Gray anywhere?" a loud voice demanded.

Angel turned and glared at a figure she was never pleased to see. "Horatio. What are you doing in my medical laboratory?"

At her sharp, Nirvein tone similar to his brother's Nirvein tone, Ray raised his hands as though surrendering. "Hey—just looking for Gray."

"As was I," she said, turning back to the supercomputer's large monitor, thoroughly annoyed.

"I thought he was here doing some doctor stuff," Ray spoke, taking a swift glance around, "Buuut it looks like he's not in here."

"He asked for the afternoon off," Angel informed, "He was going to talk to you."

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his oil-stained jeans, Ray grumbled, "Yeh, he got to that. I just dunno where he went afterwards."

Angel pulled up a schedule that was updated constantly belonging to Grayson. "Miss Jone Aral requested his presence. Let's see if he ever made it."

Set up a transmission link she did and Horatio watched, hopelessly bored, his eyes darting across the room and his body fidgeting every few seconds. He was one for action. Not medical labs.

"Miss Aral?" Angel called formally. "Come in."

After a moment of static, Jone's voice came through. "I'm sort of busy right now—we're on high alert with Snare loose. What is it?"

"Did Grayson ever attending that meeting you called with him?" asked Angel, the painstaking seconds it took for Jone to reply toying with her nerves.

A pause. "No, as a matter of fact, he didn't."

Angel's frown grew. "Thank you. That is all."

The transmission broken, she turned to the professor and the pilot. "We have a problem."

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

As the three, the chief attending physician, the professor, and the pilot, made their way down the long complex system of corridors, Professor Patrick Utonium questioned, "Who is this Snare?"

"Genetically engineered mutant female," Angel informed. "I'm not certain how many mutations she has undergone but however many, she is a threat and the top priority of being contained."

"She hitched a ride in the time stream we came on," Ray added, referring to himself, his brother, and their friends.

The tall man quizzed, "Why have you not simply sent her back through the time stream?"

"Funny thing about time travel," Ray said, "First, it can't be controlled by just anyone. Second, the only one's who can control it is my friend Andy, the head honcho of this place—Jone—and Andy's demented bro Alchem. Oh and third, those three can't even control time travel completely. So basically. . . No one can send her back until this war's over. When things in time are straight."

"Ah," he mused, "I see."

Ray glanced around at where Angel, who had taken the lead and shot him a glare any time he tried to pass her, was leading them. "Ehh, where are we goin?"

Angel didn't bother glancing at him, "We are headed towards the Off Zone."

The Off Zone was code for the area of the station in which a Fusion Starglider had crashed previous to the Earth recruits arrival and the Fusion that had emerged from it had not been found. Therefore, no one dared venture into that vicinity and they made certain that it was secured.

"Why the scrap would Gray head there?" demanded Ray. "Mr. Goody Goody wouldn't even think about—"

"I realize that," she cut him off sharply. "But something I also realize is that Snare and Grayson do not get along to say the least. She targets him generally as does this Alchem fellow. If both Grayson and Snare are missing, it is most logical to assume that Snare has apprehended Grayson—or worse. Now where of all places do you think she would choose to commit such crime aboard this station?"

"The Off Zone," Ray grumbled, not happy at the fact she had a point. "But doncha think she'd have the sense to get _off_ the station?"

"Not if the only way to get aboard a Starglider is through crowds of guards and high tech security systems," Angel replied simply. "I would think someone of your position would at least have the sense to realize _that_."

The redheaded twin's glare narrowed and he clenched his teeth as well as his fists.

Professor Utonium slowed his pace slightly, not certain of whether he ought to get in between this. Being a father, he would instinctively break up any sort of heated dispute—but one between his superior and an unpredictable fire mutant. . .

"You bloody witch," Ray muttered.

"I am _not_ a witch," she corrected sharply, obviously having some sort of past incident involving being called one. "I am an angel."

The pilot retorted, "Heh, yeh—some angel you are."

"I am not without a halo for nothing," she warned, shooting him a challenging glare.

"_I'm trembling,"_ Ray scoffed.

Struggling to bottle her emotions at his irritating arrogance and immaturity, Angel closed her eyes tightly. After a pause in which she was forced to bite her tongue not to shoot a snappy comment of some sort, she said calmly, "We must set our bickering aside—for Grayson's sake. He's in danger, you do recall."

"_Possible_ danger," Ray corrected. "He could just be sacked out somewhere."

Her eyes open, she glowered at him out of the corner of them, "I seriously doubt it. _You _are known to do that, not Grayson. I know my medics."

"'Course y'do," muttered the teenage boy. He looked and noted the direction she was heading—a solid wall. He exclaimed irately, "Oh and you take us straight into a dead end!"

Angel ignored him. She placed both hands on the wall pressing her weight against it then pressing her full weight on the floor below her. Her eyes opened wide she leaned into the wall as if trying to stare through it. Then, she spoke aloud, "Angel Joyce Meriwether, code 1-9-3-9-9-6-2-0."

_Concealed scanners, _Professor Utonium assumed.

Angel backed away and the wall shifted. After the slightest of pause, the wall began to move entirely. It rose all the way into the ceiling. There was another wall/door just a couple meters ahead of them. The blonde girl walked inside nonchalantly and with a sharp gesture of her hand motioned them inside.

The professor was first, followed shortly by a grumbling Horatio.

Angel repeated the procedure only in a different order which Professor Utonium presumed was vital to their entrance. The wall came down behind them and the wall before them rose.

A dim empty hall lay before them.

"Well, that was sure all for nothing," Ray remarked.

Angel had silently stooped down to something she had found on the floor. "I beg to differ."

Ray and the professor looked over her shoulder to see a small device in her palm—Grayson's beeper. The redhead's tan face paled a bit.

Angel stood and continued walking, gripping Grayson's beeper tightly.

Professor Utonium studied Ray's features carefully, trying to read him. How bad was this situation? To what extent was this Snare willing to harm something? Specifically, Grayson.

For only a moment, Ray hesitated to gather his thoughts and his wits. He then followed after Angel with a swift and purposeful pace. With a foreboding feeling of dread growing deep inside him, Patrick Utonium walked after them, his strides longer than either of theirs.

They came to a fork in the hall—Ray looked in one direction and Angel in another. Down the left end of the fork, Angel saw nothing but an empty corridor. Her brow furrowed, and she began to turn to the other end of the fork.

Ray's features were stiffened and tense, noted the professor, and his tone was choked. Eyes wide, he gazed down the hall horrified. "Found him."


	4. Captives

_**Chapter 4:**_

Angel stepped beside Ray and followed his horror-struck gaze. She gasped.

Grayson lay at the corner of the corridor where it turned off into a right angle. His paramedic uniform was drenched—in blood. Specifically, his own. The blood seemed to be originating from his abdomen.

To say the least, Professor Utonium was appalled. No matter how old he behaved, Grayson was still only a teenager. And now it would appear as though he had been brutally murdered.

Angel recovered first. She was racing down the corridor and on her knees beside him in a matter of seconds. Instinctively, she checked his pulse.

"Weak," she breathed. "Weak but there."

Then, she inspected the wound. Despite the fact that her expression remained grim and her mouth was a straight line as usual, it was clear that it troubled her deeply.

Ray followed after her as soon as he regained his wits, Professor Utonium right behind him. The redheaded pilot dropped at his brother's side and closed his eyes shaking his head as though trying to shake off a dream. But when he opened his eyes, it was all still there. All too real.

"Horatio," Angel called, her voice unwavering and with its usual tone, "Your flaming abilities are required."

"Huh?" he breathed, not quite registering everything she had said, totally zoned.

Angel looked to him sharply, not in the mood to tolerate cluelessness or obliviousness but understanding that he was suffering from a bit of shock. "You can heat your hands to the temperature of fire without them bursting into flames, can you not?"

Still dazed, Ray nodded slightly.

Angel took a deep breath. This is why she worked inside the medical field—during situations like this her associates would not hesitate and would stifle their shock or whatever else emotions temporarily to get the job done. But she was restraining herself from snapping at him because she had to understand that this was his brother and viewing one's sibling beaten and bloody was not something one could simply recover from on the spot.

"Good," she nodded, keeping her voice even and calm, "Do it."

His hands had a slight orange glow to it.

Professor Utonium stood back a few feet. Angel would have called him if there was anything he could do at the moment. And he wasn't certain if this was something he wanted to view up close.

"Fire sterilizes wounds," explained Angel. She raised Grayson's shirt and took Horatio's forearms to guide him—or use his hands as medical utensils.

Ray closed his eyes tightly, the situation a bit too gruesome and graphic for his taste. He tried to ignore the feeling of her placing his hands inside Grayson's wounds. But something he couldn't ignore was Grayson's agonized exclamations at his excruciatingly scorching touch.

Each time Grayson screamed, he dipped his head and winced.

"Professor," beckoned Angel, "Contact Circuit—I need a stretcher stat."

The professor nodded and complied. Angel turned back to her work. She spared a glance at Grayson's face, regretting it instantly. His bloody face was twisted in extensive pain. She looked away quickly, her expression waving momentarily. _It's incredible he's managed to hold on this long. . ._

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

The murderous, mutated fiend stood at the deepest point in the Off Zone—as close to space as she could reach. Her wild orange hair frizzed about her head like mane almost and her pointed ears and yellow cat-like eyes were just a few of her peculiar features. More included her orangey peach-tinted skin and her long, place fingernails. On the back of her hands, two black daggers protruded like Wolverine's. Blood dripped from them. At her mental command, the blades retracted back under her skin.

Her sexy, orange and black attire was stained in Grayson's blood, not that she really minded. It didn't bother her warped mind in the least.

In her right hand, she held Grayson's communicator. She toyed with the transmission signals until she came to a very familiar setting. She pressed a button to the side and spoke into the speaker.

"Alchem?" she called. "It's Snare. I need a lift."

Long static.

"Ah, Snare. What a pleasure it is to hear from you. Where are you?"

"AFGB station—Off Zone," Snare replied, "I'd swipe a 'glider but security's heavy."

"I'll be there soon. Be ready. And Snare—"

"Yes?"

"Another failure, another capture, and I may not be so gracious unto you."

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

DeeDee woke to a concerned, young face above her. The young face was peculiar—pale, platinum blonde messy hair around it, round silver spectacles on it.

She slowly recovered from the sedative that the Fusion had tranquilized her with, blinking several times.

"Is the wady awake, Willie?" asked a shrill voice.

"Yea," the boy nodded, backing away slightly. Kindly, he helped DeeDee sit up when she was strong enough.

When DeeDee regained her voice, she asked, "Who are you two? Where are we?"

"We're in a detention cell," the boy replied glumly, "Onboard the Toxic Society's space station."

DeeDee's brow furrowed slightly with confusion and she was about to ask more when the second person who had spoken earlier answered her first question.

"My name's Willa!" a tiny blonde girl in a long pink dress answered. She latched onto the almost-silver-haired boy. "This is my Bubby—Willie."

"William," Willie clarified. "William Peterson—Cadet Peterson, I mean."

"Oh," DeeDee noted with recognition of the names. She hadn't wandered off before the disappearance of two children and an operative by the name of Peterson was mentioned. "You're the kids that went missing, right?"

William nodded. "You know?"

"Someone mentioned it," she replied.

William looked away sadly, his younger sister nuzzling into his neck.

"They _are_ looking for you," added DeeDee.

He looked back at her, his eyes appearing larger than they were because of his extensively magnified lenses, and forced a slight smile.

The small room didn't appear to have a door, but none the less a section slid back and in stepped a helmeted figure in a dark green jumpsuit with the logo TS on the left side of the chest. The figure ripped Willa from William and tossed her to the ground, hoisting William forcefully by his upper arm.

"Hey!" DeeDee exclaimed, "Leave them alone!"

The mouthless creature glared at her. Not intimidated, DeeDee stood, nearly the Fusion's height and tried to reach for William. Taking not of this, the Fusion trooper whipped out the blaster holstered at his side and jabbed the barrel into William's back. DeeDee reluctantly backed down and watched helplessly as the boy was dragged away.

The section of the wall slid back and the four-year-old girl sniffled. "Bubby."

As she started to cry, DeeDee quickly took up her sisterly role and cradled the little girl in her gangly arms. She cooed comforting words to Willa.

As the small girl began to drift off to sleep, questions reeled through DeeDee's mind. Where was this place? What did these Fusions want from them? And . . . had Dexter even noticed she was gone?


	5. Tough Decision

_**Chapter 5:**_

**Tough Decision**

Ray leaned against a wall in the parking lot of the medical laboratory and slid against the wall to a crouch. He closed his eyes tight and recalled the swift events that had just taken place. His brother had been rushed away into the med lab to be sewn up and repaired in whatever way Angel could. There had been traces of Fusion Matter found inside of him which suggested either there had been a Fusion involved it the vicious attack or that one of Snare's mutations had involved becoming part Fusion. Whatever it was, this wasn't something Ray would soon forget. Now he had an even stronger hatred for these Fusions.

Under his breath, he swore harshly.

"Ray?"

The redheaded pilot looked up to see two familiar faces. Benjamin and Donavan. Donavan Wright, his rival pilot and close friend, had been the one to speak and now he crouched beside him.

"You okay, man?" he asked.

Ray dipped his head. "Yeh. Fine."

"Yeah, b'cause you sure look it," Don muttered, his tone dull and sarcastic. He grabbed him under the arm and hoisted him to his feet.

Reluctantly, Ray let him pull him up. He straightened and avoided their eyes. Don exchanged a quick glance with Ben then gave Ray a pat on the back, "Gray's gonna be fine—Angel's the best doctor aboard this station. Plus she's a healer. He's in good hands."

Ray ran a hand through his hair much like his brother would and then shook whatever he just brushed. "Yeh. I know."

Ben noticed someone walk in the parking lot entrance. A slender, blonde girl no older than himself. She had something about her as she walked shoulders firm that said mess with me the wrong way, and I'll mess up your face. Her emerald eyes glanced in their direction, and she noticed Ray, her expression changing slightly with recognition.

Don cast her a sideways glance then looked back to Ray. His eyes widened only slightly as he let it sink in who it was and he looked back.

"Uh, Ray?" he called.

Ray looked up and saw the girl. She walked up and stopped before them, her hands on her hips.

Eyes narrowing at him, she demanded, "Ray—what did you do?"

"Nothing," he said defensively, offended.

"This time," she muttered, crossing her arms. "So what happened then?"

His one-worded reply was simply, "Snare."

Silently, the girl's expression hardened at the mention of the wicked mutated freak. After a few moments of hush, she looked to Ben who hadn't spoke yet. She unfolded her arms and held out a hand to him. "Luna. Luna Cooper."

"Ben," he smiled politely, taking the hand and shaking it. "Tennyson."

"Wielder of the Omnitrix," noted Luna with respect. "Nice to meet you, Ben."

From the medical laboratory complex emerged an android with very human like characteristics, including synthetic auburn hair, and a lab coat. "Horatio and Luna?"

Luna and Ray turned, nodding simultaneously.

"Come," he waved his hands inside, "Your friends can as well."

As Ray and Luna walked onward, Donavan started after them. He glanced back at Ben and jerked his head towards the door, to signal for him to come along.

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Angel disposed of her lab coat into a hamper as she entered the control center of the medical laboratory complex where the huge monitor of the supercomputer was located. Shortly after her entry, Circuit entered as well, with four teens behind him.

Nodding her thanks to the medical android, she turned to the four, speaking specifically to Ray and Luna. "Grayson is stable. His wounds were critical but we managed to keep him together. I attempted a healing but I don't have enough healing power spared to heal him wholly."

"Thanks for trying," Luna said sincerely.

Ray asked, "Any word on Snare?"

"Actually," began Angel, turning to her computer and working the controls, "Yes. On her escape."

The four listened attentively, two more eager than the others.

Angel brought up the all the recent reports she had been able to find in separate windows on the broad screen. "Her escape was the most curious thing—it seemed there had been a short break in the flow of power to the electro holding cell, allowing her to sink her claws into it and tear the metal to shreds before the power returned. She left a trail of slaughtered Gamma operatives behind her."

Ray stiffened, as did Ben. Ben recalled how Ray had detached the power cable—causing a break in the power flow—to refuel his starglider without paying. He was seriously starting to regret not putting up a stronger argument—not that there was much he could have done to dissuade the stubborn brute of a flight instructor.

Her green eyes narrowing suspiciously, Luna caught Ray's tense shoulders and glared at him. "Ray"—the voice of a knowing parent—"did you cause the break?"

He hesitated. She knew.

Luna folded her arms. She said nothing, but her glare said everything. Her eyes held disappointment, fervent anger, shame of knowing him, and irritation.

Angel turned and clamped her hands tightly behind her back giving him a similar glare only it didn't hold so many recollections of past incidents. "Horatio—what precisely did you do to cause the break?"

Ray looked to the floor. Not answering immediately, he let out a deep shameful sigh. "I . . . used the cables to refuel my starglider."

"You realize that that is illegal, correct?" Angel questioned, her tone dull and calm as usual.

Ray muttered, "Yeh."

Closing her eyes momentarily, Angel nodded. "I'll have to report you, and then your piloting license will be suspended, you are aware of that as well I presume?"

Sadly, Ray closed his eyes tightly and his shoulders drooped.

Angel turned away and looked to the supercomputer's monitor. She noted the times during which the break had transpired. She turned her head only slightly, casting a sideways glance suspiciously at Ben. "That was during one of your training sessions, Ben—specifically your flight exam. You were present during the incident?"

Slightly timid, Ben replied, "Yes."

"Then both of your licenses are suspended," Angel said, turning back, "It will up to Ms. Aral for how long."

Ray jerked his head up and defended, "The kid was trying to get me to stop—I didn't listen—"

Luna rolled her eyes as if to say, _Shocker._

"—There wasn't anything else he could do," Ray continued, not noticing Luna's reaction. "It wasn't his fault."

Cocking an eyebrow, Angel turned around and eyed Ben curiously. "Is this true, Mr. Tennyson?"

Ben hesitated. Ray shot him a glance that warned him not to argue. Therefore, he nodded.

"In that case," the chief attending physician said, "Your license will not be suspended—but I will have you under close watch. Donavan, Ben is your responsibility now. As for you, Horatio, you and I will be having a meeting with Ms. Aral shortly—whenever she can see us."

Ray's blonde friend glowered at him, everything about her—her glare, her posture towards him, her demeanor, her tone—threatening. "Until then, you and _I_ will be having a little meeting."

At Ray's reaction, Ben was almost surprised to see he appeared frightened. Almost. The girl looked more than capable of beating the crud out of anyone who crossed her path. Little did he realize, she had super strength which made it all the more threatening.

"Now I have patients to tend and potions to test—so I suggest you all be on your way," Angel stated with a wave of her hand.

Ben left to the mess hall, the time approximate to noon, considering the fact that Ray had stood up for him as far as not letting him take any of the blame. Sure it wasn't much of a righteous action—but it was quite a noble deed coming from Ray.

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Angel sighed deeply once they had left. Things were looking bleak for her and her medical staff. Sure, Professor Utonium could fill in for Grayson until he was fully healed—but even with both Grayson and the Professor, the medical personnel of her branch were minute. Quite few in number. If their population didn't increase, they'd surely be replaced with Gamma medical officers. Then, her and her staff would be broken up and sent to areas they served best.

Circuit looked at her with his optical sensors, "Are you alright, Miss?"

She straightened herself and nodded sharply. "Yes, Circuit, I'm fine."

Unquestioning, Circuit nodded back an acknowledgement. As he walked out of the control center, Professor Utonium stepped in. Not noticing him immediately, Angel was searching through the database on the supercomputer for someone with medical experience. Anyone with medical experience she had not yet hired or was not working for the Gamma Agency.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a tall figure standing not too far behind her. She nodded a greeting to her associate and continued working in silence. Then, she remembered something.

"Professor—" she began. He looked to her attentively, and she continued, "I realize I told you that you would be able to see your girls, but that may become a rare opportunity in the coming days because Grayson is currently out of commission and we are limited in staff. You will be working Circuit's duties and Circuit will be working Grayson's. I suggest you spend as much time as you can with your girls before it is time for you to be working hours without end. There is a room in here with bunks for if you find a few spare moments for rest."

Professor Utonium nodded grimly. With even less staff, this was going to be hectic.

A mechanical voice rang out. "Updating database."

Angel looked at the new name listed on the database as the newest recruit was entered. Her brow furrowed, "Impossible. . ."

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Dexter and Nathan Conwell had worked tirelessly—arranging databases, familiarizing themselves with every system, every routine, and every control in the massive control center. Finally, they were at a point where they could both relax a bit. Not that it was relaxing. It was more of just stand there without having to do any sort of physical labor or tremendous mental labor.

Nathan, leaning greatly on a cane that he had switched his arm brace crutch for that day, looked to Dexter curiously. His hands folding on top of his cane, he asked, "Do you think Mr. Sevin would give us an opportunity to spend a few minutes at least with our families?"

"I believe we have a right to at minimum," Dexter said, considering the question. Family—that would be DeeDee. How was she doing? Probably entertaining herself by pressing random buttons inside a simulator. He was quite skeptical as to the fact that she had not been the cause of any emergencies as of yet.

Continued did he, "I'm going to ask."

"No need." At that moment, a computer-generated hologram appeared before them. The tall, pastel-green-haired teenager stood with his hands at his side. "At precisely 1900 hours, you two are free to go for the rest of the day. Right now though, I need you both working on Snare's disappearance. I need your main focus on how she exited this station—or _if_ she exited the station at all. Grayson was gracious enough to form a detailed profile of Snare upon his arrival and her detainment. It includes crimes she's committed in the past and allies of hers."

"And what of these allies?" Dexter questioned.

"He reconstructed a segment of a profiling database he created in his own time," Gabriel informed. "I was unable to download it into my hard-drive for fear of overloading my systems. But you two should be able to analyze it and pick out any details that may help us with this case."

Gabriel's hologram flickered away. Nathan looked to Dexter uneasily. "On the analysis of the profiles. . . I'm not particularly educated in psychology or profiling. I'm not certain I'm very capable of linking personality types to actions. But I can detect links in a case."

Dexter adjusted his tinted spectacles. "I see—you review the footage and inspect the reports; I will examine the profiles."

They exchanged looks, nodded simultaneously and set to work, each with their spirits brightened at the thought of getting out early enough to spend quite a few hours with family and friends.

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

The Fusion trooper shoved William into a long room. The walls were dark green here and cracked, green slime just barely oozing out of them. He caught himself on a table that was just a shade darker than the walls. Picking himself up after his elbows buckled, he looked across the long table to see three figures. One female was a rather orange, sharp-toothed mutant. She stood beside a seventeen-year-old boy seated across the table from him. He had strange silver hair and clothing that looked like it belonged on Star Wars. The last, standing on the other side of the seated boy, was a Fusion. A peculiar Fusion. Dark green hair, red eyes behind circular spectacles, red paramedic's uniform, and a _mouth_. Very peculiar, indeed.

William straightened himself and glared at the seated teenager. He demanded, trying to keep his voice steady but failing miserably, "W-What do you want?"

"Cooperation," the young man stated, his voice strangely, forebodingly calm. A kind of tone that sent chills up William's back.

The eight-year-old clenched his teeth and kept silent, keeping up his defiant yet frightened glare.

"What do you know of a super weapon inside the AFGB Headquarters?" the teen continued, unfazed.

"Nothing," William replied truthfully but with a sharp tone. "You kidnapped me before we even reached Headquarters."

A simple nod was the older boy's response. "Right. Well, in that case, it will seem I'll have to retrieve the information my lord so desperately needs using a different method."

Form in his stomach did a sickening feeling of dread. William swallowed hard.

"I have a proposition for you, Cadet Peterson," the teen pressed his fingers together in a thoughtful manner, "Do as I say, and I'll consider sparing your sister. And the gangly prisoner as well."

William clenched his teeth, "What sort of an idiot do you think I am?—consider?"

"Alright, alright—my you drive a hard bargain," scoffed the silver-haired teen. "I _will_ spare your sister."

There was a long pause as William sorted things out in his head, analyzing what he had said carefully. "Wh. . . What is it you what me to do?"

"I'll be sending you back to AFGB Headquarters," replied the much older boy, "You will be _my_ agent. You will search through whatever means necessary for this ultimate weapon or any information on it. To me and me alone will you report information back to. And you will most certainly _not_ tell anyone of the purpose behind you actions, the location of your sister, or anything about what's going on here. If you do—if you even hint off—I give the execution for Willow."

"_Willa_," William corrected sharply. His features drooped after he snapped. The universe or his sister's life? How could anyone make a decision like this. . . He glanced to the side, eying the Fusion trooper's blaster. All he had to do was lunge and professionally rip the blaster from its gooey grip.

"Don't even think about it," the vile teen warned. "I can give the order faster than you can take a step."

Hesitantly, William dismissed his idea. He wasn't so sure this teen could actually do as he said so quickly, but he didn't want to test him.

"You have ten seconds to make your decision," stated the teen, "Ten seconds before your sister's execution is carved in stone. I can promise you—I am more than capable of making death a rather painful experience."

William's mind raced. He swallowed hard. Out of all his siblings, he was closest to Willa. Generally middle children felt ignored thanks to the youngest and did everything to gain attention and despised the youngest, but in this case, William and Willa were an inseparable duo. This was a horrible position he was in—how could he make this decision? Was he willing to trade the lives of everyone he knew, everyone he loved, and everyone else for his sister, a totally defenseless little four-year-old that looked up to him always with a broad smile? The entire universe . . . his sister . . . universe . . . sister . . universe. .

"Three. . ." the ten announced as a warning. "Two. . .


	6. Cupid Strikes

_**Chapter 6:  
**_**Cupid Strikes**

"Professor," Angel stated simply, standing in the open door to the medical control center. He stood inside where she had requested him to wait until she could return with the new medical officer.

The Professor looked up, concealing his eagerness.

"There is someone I must introduce to you," she stated, stepping out of the doorway.

Another figure stepped into the doorway. It was female, only a few years younger than the Professor. She stood rather short for her age and her curly, raven hair was pulled back neatly into a high ponytail, her bangs parted and free of the ponytail. Her glasses were exceptionally thick, slightly magnifying her brown eyes. She wore a lab coat that was just her size, complementing her features nicely. Charcoal gray slacks covered her legs and were stuffed into her sleek, black boots.

Not hesitant to break the silence as the two observed the other carefully, Angel spoke, "Professor Utonium, this is Doctor Linda Conwell. She is the latest addition to our staff. As I put you under Grayson's command in this laboratory, she will be under yours. Make certain to familiarize her with all the paraphernalia."

Her hands clasped behind her back, nodded a farewell to each of them did she. Then, she turned to exit as Dr. Conwell stepped inside. The chief attending physician paused before leaving and glanced at Dr. Conwell with a slight change in her. She seemed only a tad less professional than she generally was—which wasn't saying much for the average Joe, but for the average Angel Meriwether, it was.

"It is good to see you alive, Linda," she stated. Though her face was as it was usually, firm and masked, the sincerity was clear. Her voice sounded almost as if she had attempted a smile.

Dr. Conwell smiled, displaying her thanks. Without another word, Angel left the two.

Glancing at the Professor a bit timidly, Dr. Conwell ducked her head and brushed a fallen piece of her wavy bangs behind her ear. She nodded a slight greeting, "Professor Utonium, is it?"

Professor Patrick Utonium smiled and nodded as well. "Yes. I'm one of the Earth recruits."

"Lev'n," Dr. Conwell explained herself as well. "So this is the medical facility?"

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Angel had brightened a bit after seeing one she had not seen after several years. But her face fell shortly after she left. Her focus was on Grayson as she headed to the infirmary of the medical facilities. His condition had worsened over time. She had an assumption that it had something to do with the Fusion matter getting inside his system. Sighing, she let the fact that she was unable to determine whether he was going to make it or not.

All the times he had risked his life and emerged without need of medical attention, and his brother's careless actions ends him up in the infirmary.

She stepped inside the hospital room in which Grayson lay hooked up to numerous machines. Once she checked the readings, she sighed. No change.

The chief attending physician looked down at her associate's face that was partially covered by an oxygen mask. Most of the rest of his pale face was covered with his thick hair. Angel brushed his bangs out of his closed eyes and then pulled her hand back quickly. To herself, she blamed the action on the fact that she recalled he didn't like his hair being in his face.

_What am I doing here?_ she wondered. There was nothing more she could do for him, and she was monitoring the monitors themselves with her advanced beeper that would alert her when a meaningful change was being made. There was no need for her to be there; in fact there was probably something needed to be done elsewhere. But she had come in here. . .

She shook her head fervently as the hormones of her teenage form started acting up, _"There is no point in this. He is from a different time. . . Why of all times am I losing control of my emotions now? Two thousand years . . . __two thousand years__ I have gone without this sort of. . . Ugh."_

Shaking her head, Angel turned slowly and left.

**I apologize for the shortness of this chapter; I'm finding it harder and harder to right lately. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Tell me in your reviews. :)**


End file.
